


most importantly, happy

by sarcasticfishes



Series: the most important things [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Derek is a Good Parent, Domestic, Kid Fic, M/M, Nemeton, Teacher Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wow, Derek Hale talking about tutus. I’m hallucinating, right?”</p><p>“Nope,” Derek turned his head slightly, to regard him, “Single parent syndrome.”</p><p> </p><p>“My dad tried to take me shoe shopping when I was twelve. Melissa ended up doing it for him.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m a pro at shoe shopping,” Derek admitted, scanning the letter again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	most importantly, happy

**Author's Note:**

> So this begins with a scene that I didn't write into Most Important things, which is stupid because I should have put it in there. But I just wanted to add a little Christmas/New Year cheer (and some not-so-cheer) to this series before the season to be jolly has run its course. Best you read part 1 in the series before you read this, if you haven't. Un-beta'd. All mistakes are my own fault.

Three weeks before June and Henry’s wedding, Romy came out to the Toyota after school, with a letter in her schoolbag, which she presented proudly to a curious and wary Derek.

> _Hello, wonderful Parents!_
> 
> _For the first year ever, Oakwood Elementary School’s kindergarten class will be taking part in the_ Christmas Carol Concert _on the Tuesday night before we depart for Christmas break. You are all cordially invited to see your little darlings shine like the little stars both you and I know they are._
> 
> _The concert begins at 7pm, but I would like to request the kids arrive at 6.30 pm to get into costume. While the night finishes with a raffle at 9pm, parents of the kids in my class are permitted to leave the auditorium when they wish with early bedtimes in mind._
> 
> _Any concerns can be voiced to me via email or phonecall, even texts are just fine. Don’t hesitate to contact me._
> 
> _Looking forward to hearing from you all._
> 
> _Mr. Stilinski_
> 
> _Email:_ [ _ystilinski@oeschicago.com_ ](mailto:ystilinski@oeschicago.com) _  
> #No: (555) 643-5849_

Derek huffed out a laugh to himself ( _Little darlings_ , _Stiles? Really?_ ), but grinned anyway. Romy still looked at him expectantly. Derek smiled, “You need a costume?”

“I’m a Christmas fairy.”

Derek pursed his lips, “I don’t suppose you have enough tutus already?”

Suddenly, Stiles was letting himself into the passenger seat.

“Wow, Derek Hale talking about tutus. I’m hallucinating, right?”

“Nope,” Derek turned his head slightly, to regard him, “Single parent syndrome.”

“My dad tried to take me shoe shopping when I was twelve. Melissa ended up doing it for him.”

“I’m a pro at shoe shopping,” Derek admitted, scanning the letter again.

Stiles looked unimpressed, said “You’re probably a pro at everything,” and then blushed so hard he had to let himself out of the car again, looking horrified.

“Wow, I’m going to leave before I say something r-u-d-e in front of the c-h-i-l-d.”

“You do that,” Derek said, smirking.

“I just stopped to say hi. Text me later,” Stiles said, pointedly.

“Of course.”

“See you tomorrow, Romy.”

“See you tomorrow, Stiles!” she chirped.

Derek started the engine and sighed quietly, contentedly.

“Okay… skirts, tiaras, wings. Let’s go shopping.”

This is really his life.

•

The auditorium was hot, filled with people, chatter; an assault on the senses. Derek took an empty seat near the front, and checked his phone to pass the time. There was a text from Stiles, just a _‘!!!’_ send a few minutes ago after Derek had dropped Romy off at her classroom. It had been hectic, and Stiles had only managed to spare a wave before returning to plaiting at blonde girl’s hair.

 _Good luck_ , Derek wrote, hesitated, then added an _x_ and sent it.

A few moments later, the lights went down and the parents and guardians fell into somewhat-silence while the Principle of the school took stage. Romy had mentioned her before; Her name was Ms Green, she looked stern but sounded warm.

“Now, this year we have a bit of a treat for you. Usually, our kindergarten class does not perform during the Christmas Concert but, well, Mr Stilinski was quite insistent, and it’s hard to say no to that face.”

There was suddenly a bark of laughter, and Derek looked down to see Stiles standing at the bottom of the stage, clad in a patterned sweater and antlers, looking positively gleeful. The audience tittered and chuckled, Derek included.

“Without further ado, I present Mr Stilinski’s Kindergarten class, to perform Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

The kids spilled onto the stage, reindeer, elves, fairies, Romy (!), and then to a round of applause and laughter, one of the boys dressed in a Santa-suit, with a pillow stuffed beneath the jacket. Stiles gave a red-haired woman on the piano a thumbs up, and she suddenly started to play.

Derek hadn’t expected much from a bunch of five and six year olds, but he was pleasantly surprised. They were very enthusiastic, and Derek had to hand it to Stiles for being so dedicated. The kids were loud, stayed _mostly_ on key, and followed the little dance moves Stiles was instructing. There was a chorus of laughter from the audience as all the little ones spread their arms wide, imploringly shouting “ _won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?_ ” and even Stiles had to pause to catch his breath from laughing – but the kids carried on without him.

Obviously, Romy was the star of the show, and Derek was _not biased at all_. No way. Nope.

When the song was over, the kids stood and took a bow. That was it, it was short and sweet, but the main point was that Stiles’ class got to take part in the show.

Once again, the lights went up. Ms Green instructed that the parents of the kindergarteners were welcome to collect their children and stay for the rest of the show, or to go home if it was time for bed. Derek left through the side door into a back room where he and a few other parents watched Stiles become swamped by his class, hugging him, climbing him until he gave in and rolled to the floor with them. He didn’t miss the looks of admiration Stiles’ got from the younger moms, even a few dads.

One by one, the kids were wrangled in by their parents, and Stiles got to his feet, face flushed and antlers askew. Romy wrapped herself around Derek’s leg.

“How was I?”

“Amazing?” he beamed, reaching down to scoop her up, “Absolutely amazing. Stunning.”

Romy laughed and placed her hands on Derek’s cheeks, scratching at his beard and then kissing his forehead. Derek scrunched up his face at her, opened his eyes to see Stiles watching them, only half-paying attention to the woman who was obviously, shamelessly, flirting with him with her child propped up on her hip.

Stiles seemed to make some sort of apologetic motion with his hand, touching her arm gently as he excused himself from her. Romy straightened up as Stiles got closer, until he stopped just short of them and gave little bow- no, wait. It was a _curtsey_. He bent at the knee and pulled out the hem of his sweater like a skirt.

“Your highness, Princess Romaine.”

Derek scoffed, and Romy gave him a stern look. Stiles raised an eyebrow and took a step closer. The woman he’d dismissed before was now glaring openly at Derek.

“They all love you so much,” Derek said, “You were meant for this job.”

Stiles’ cheeks went a bit pink, and he looked down at his feet.

“I love them too. They used to be the only reason I could get out of bed in the morning,” Stiles said, fondly, sadly, openly.

“Used to be,” Derek echoed, and Romy clenched his shirt. She must feel it too, that strong, dark, pull from inside Stiles’ chest, eased so much more than it had been just a couple of months ago, but still lingering. Derek wanted to kiss it right out of him.

“I have to go mingle,” Stiles apologised, “Romy, you were so amazing. I could hear your voice above everyone else’s. Astounding.”

Romy high-fived him, and then Stiles touched Derek’s arm as he went to pull away.

“Hey, d’you want to come over when you’re done here?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to need a drink.”

“Red or white?”

“Red. Please,” Stiles sighed, his shoulders sagging with relief as he edged away and re-joined the group of moms and dads all huddled together. Derek walked back to the car, and while all the noise of the concert faded, Stiles heartbeat stayed loud and clear above all else.

•

Stiles showed up after 9pm, still wearing his antlers, rubbing his face tiredly.

“Is Romy asleep?”

“Since 8pm,” Derek said, and Stiles made a soft little noise in the back of his throat and pressed himself forward into Derek’s chest, fingers at the nape of his neck to push their mouths together. Derek reached out a hand, waving it around to find the door, closing it, pressing Stiles right up against it to the sound of a sleepy groan straight from Stiles’ chest.

“I’ve wanted to do that all evening.”

“Same,” Stiles sighed, going lax, tipping his head back against the door, “Soccer moms, man. They’re hard _core_. One of them tried to take me home.”

Derek growled a little, and Stiles’ lips curled.

“I told her my boyfriend might worry, she got really excited and tried to plan a shopping trip. I swear, stereotypes will be the end of me.”

“You’re very cute in those antlers.”

“I know.”

“Wolves like to chase deer you know.”

Stiles let out a breathless “oh my god,” and pushed Derek away, grinning, “I need a drink.”

Derek led him into the living area and poured two glasses of wine, sitting down next to Stiles who promptly slung his legs over Derek’s, toeing off his shoes which he glared at furiously as they clunked to the floor.

“Stupid shoes. Look at them.”

“They’re brown. I like them?” Derek shrugged a shoulder, and took a drink.

“Yeah they’re brown, Der. They’re to match the antlers.”

“Why’d you wear dress shoes anyway?”

“To make a good impression,” Stiles shrugged too, “This is my first year teaching, I don’t want the parents to think their kids are being chased around all day by some kid, even if that’s not too far from the truth.”

“You’re not some kid, Stiles,” Derek said quietly, “You’ve never been just some kid.”

“Isn’t that the most depressing thing ever, _ever_?” Stiles asked, laughing, knocking back half his glass in one gulp, and Derek put a hand on his wrist to steady him, “I mean, I’m twenty-five, and people twice my age will never go through the shit I went through before I was seventeen. The things you’ve been dealing with for your entire life.”

“We left it behind though, didn’t we?” Derek poked him in the ribs, trying quickly to deflect the conversation. The night had gone so well for Stiles, he didn’t need his inner demons dragging him down like this. Derek recognised it before it started, the swell of darkness. A low pressure front, a depression, in Stiles’ chest.

“Yeah,” Stiles sighed softly, leaning into Derek’s shoulder. He was frowning hard into the wine, fingers restless against the glass, like he was working himself up to saying something.

“Stiles?”

“I was dead, you know,” he announced, suddenly, pulling his legs back and pushing his sock-clad toes under Derek’s thigh. Derek froze, his glass half-way to his mouth.

“You-”

“Me, Scott and Allison. For sixteen hours. I think it was sixteen- the memory of what happened right after is fuzzy. It was how we found our parents and the nemeton. You left before we got a chance to tell you, but, it didn’t really matter then anyway.”

Stiles fell silent for a moment, and then made a frustrated noise in the back of this throat.

“ _Except it mattered_. It did.”

“Stiles… I’m sorry.”

“Deaton said there would be consequences, we would feel this… _darkness_ around our hearts, and we kind of _sneered_ at it because Deaton was the king of ambiguity and nebulousness. Having this darkness, whatever the frick it was supposed to be, seemed nothing in comparison to having our parents back. But we didn’t _know_ , Derek. Or, I didn’t know.”

“It was worse for you, wasn’t it? Scott and Allison dealt with it better.”

“I hated them for it. Sometimes still do,” Stiles shrugged a shoulder, “They seem happy. I never really- it never went away.”

“You feel it when you think about home, don’t you?”

“How did you…?” Stiles drew back, looking at Derek in confusion, “Yeah, I-”

Derek bit his lip and looked down at Stiles’ hands, arms around his knees, wringing his fingers together. The swell of sadness was almost overwhelming.

“I feel it, sometimes. When you feel it. It’s like- it feels like dirt in my throat, my nose, and a hand around my heart.”

“The sacrifice we made brought _things_ to Beacon Hills. It was like living in a freaking episode of a Supernatural. You don’t know what it was like. Always fighting and running, barely any sleep. And even when it _was_ quiet, occasionally - only quiet, never safe, Derek – even then, I couldn’t sleep. Allison had Isaac, Scott met a girl called Kira. They had distractions. I had nothing.

Eventually, I left too, with my dad. I didn’t have the same resolve or strength as they did. Lydia and I got accepted into colleges over this side of the country and it seemed like the perfect escape for the two _weak_ little humans. Allison’s a tough cookie. You know that. I’m- I’m not.”

Derek said nothing, swallowed the last of his drink, didn’t bother pouring another glass.

“They figured, Scott and Allison figured out that they needed each other. They gravitated back together.”

“So did we,” Derek pointed out, and Stiles reached out, dug his fingers into Derek’s thigh.

“Eventually, yeah.”

Stiles started to pour himself another glass, and Derek let him.

“Why did you decide to tell me this?” he asked, and Stiles shrugged a shoulder.

“Because some days I’m not- like, _okay_. And I don’t want you to think it’s because of you. Because it’s not.”

Derek, crushingly, wanted to gather Stiles up into his arms and squeeze him, kiss him, keep him there, tell him how much he _loved_ him, because he- he loved him.

“Okay,” he said instead, nodded as he put an arm around Stiles and pulled him in.

“I just wanted you to know.”

Derek put on the TV for background noise and let Stiles push him down and kiss him until he fell asleep.

•

The night after the wedding, Derek drove Stiles back to his house, Romy asleep in the back and Stiles dozing against the window.

“Best New Years I have had in a while,” Stiles said, as he unfastened his seatbelt, “June is such a sweetheart. And also _really_ inappropriate. Wow.”

“What did she say to you?” Derek snorted, turning out the headlights.

“I’m not- I can’t even _repeat it_. And you know me.”

“Wow,” Derek said, sucking in a breath between his teeth.

“Regardless, I repeat, best New Years I’ve had in a long time. Possibly ever.”

Derek smiled fondly and reached for Stiles’ hand, clutching at his fingers.

“I’m really aware of how cheesy this is going to sound-”

“Cheesy Derek Hale, well I never,” (and he was smiling, entirely serious.)

“But Happy New Year. I’m glad I started it with you.”

Stiles’ face softened as he leaned over the centre console of the Toyota and quickly pressed his mouth to Derek’s, and chanced a glance back at Romy – still sleeping – before pushing his hand into Derek’s hair and kissing him deeply, fiercely.

The light in Stiles’ porch began flicking on and off violently, and when they pulled apart, Derek saw Ailbhe pull back the curtain from the glass side of the door. Stiles laughed quietly and sat back, and Derek heard her murmuring something along the lines of “Alright kids, pack it up. This is a public street.”

Stiles pulled back and glanced over towards his housemate, grinning.

“I better go inside.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Stiles echoed, flushing sweetly as he slid out of the passenger seat, shouldering his overnight bag.

Derek sat in the driveway for a moment, listening to Stiles’ heartbeat inside the house, strong and steady and, most importantly, _happy_.


End file.
